


Every Other Friday. . .

by PoppyAlexander



Category: Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23
Genre: Creative Use of an Oral-B Toothbrush, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Drinking, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Fun, Funny, Just Friends, Kissing, No Strings Attached, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe keeps a very expensive handbag under her bed. She doesn't keep her housekeys or lipstick in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Other Friday. . .

**Author's Note:**

> My usual warning applies: I use "Mature" for sex between consenting adults and reserve "Explicit" for violence/non-con. This story contains graphic descriptions of sex.

“Chloe? You won’t believe it!” June hung her purse on the coat rack. “We can’t leave the building. Something about a lockdown? Because of a threat of terrorist activity.”

“Yeah, that was me,” Chloe called from her bedroom. June stuck her head in Chloe’s bedroom door.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“I changed my mind about my date tonight, so I borrowed his phone to send a bomb threat, then went out the back door of the restaurant. The guys in that kitchen are the best! We play poker every third Thursday.”

“I was going on a third date with Brian tonight!” June protested, slumping against the door jamb.

“The zookeeper?” Chloe was lounging on her bed in a black cocktail dress and spike heels, dangling earrings and her blue-black hair pulled up in a carefully-crafted-but-messy-looking bun.

“He’s an administrator at a non-profit that protects African elephants.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “ _Eech_ , boring! And do you know what someone like that earns? He definitely wouldn’t have anything worth stealing. Here, come in, I have a better idea.” She sat up a bit, patted the mattress and June hesitated, but then sighed, lowered her shoulders, and crossed the room.

“What idea?” June asked. “You never want to hang out with me; you don’t have women friends. You don’t even like women.”

“Any port in a storm, June!” On Chloe’s night table was a half-empty bottle of gin and a can of diet lemon-lime soda. She poured some of each into a tall, pink-tinted glass, checked a nearby coffee mug’s contents and, seeming satisfied it wasn’t toxic, mixed a strong drink in it. “Drink up! Slutty slumber party!”

“I am NOT a slut!”

“Yeah, OK. Me neither. Drink up.”

Chloe reached around June’s back for her laptop, opened it and balanced it on the nightstand. Two clicks, and the screen was filled with a somewhat arty, black-and-white video of two naked men, one draped over the other’s back, kissing his neck, while their hips rocked luridly.

June spat her drink back in her mug, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “ _Chloe_! Gay porn is your homepage?”

Chloe made a _no-duh!_ face. “That’s what computers are for, June. James set it up for me.”

“James Van Der Beek watches gay porn?”

“Uh, _everyone_ watches gay porn.” Chloe’s long, talon-shaped fingernail tapped the screen. “I like to pretend _this one_ is Jude Law, and _this one_ is the guy who played the twins in the Facebook movie.”

June half-watched out the corner of her eye and took a big swig from the coffee mug. “This actually tastes pretty good.”

“Mm,” Chloe agreed, and tilted the mug up with one finger, forcing June to swallow fast or drown. “OK. Let’s play!” She clapped her hands excitedly.

“Play?”

The pointed toe of Chloe’s shoe caught on something beneath her bed, and she slid out a poppy-red handbag covered in high-end logos. June could only wish to own a bag like that, and Chloe threw it under her bed like it was nothing. She hefted it up onto the bed between them.

“So the veterinarian likes this poodle skirt look you’re rocking?” Chloe asked as she went at the zip of the bag.

June held her long blonde hair out of the way as she looked down at her front. “This skirt is A-line.”

“Yeah, OK,” Chloe scoffed. “June, you have a bangin’ little body; you should be wearing the three S’s: short, stretchy, and shiny.” She reached into the bag and began to dig around in it. “Your implants are amazing, by the way, and they must have been so cheap out there in Nebraska.”

June gasped. “These are not implants. And I’m from Indiana.”

Chloe’s matte-red mouth fell open. “No way those are real. Let me.” She reached out and cupped one of June’s breasts in her hand, squeezed, the shifted it up and let it fall back into place. June was so shocked that by the time she thought to swat Chloe’s hand away, she was already back to the red handbag. “All the more reason to dress better,” she said. “Don’t waste them. Consider them parallel income streams; you could be pulling in a lot of cash with those!”

June swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Chloe gripped the side seams of June’s snug, teal-coloured top and tugged down, exposing more cleavage. “Cha-ching!” she sang out.

The men in the video still playing on Chloe’s laptop had changed positions; June was semi-hypnotized by the rhythmic rolling of their hips. She moved to sip her drink only to find she’d already finished it. She felt pleasantly muzzy-brained, and poured herself another.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked, resuming her seat on the bed.

“Toys,” Chloe said with a smile and a wiggle of her eyebrow. She pulled out the most enormous silicone dildo June had ever seen: translucent hot pink, and highly anatomically correct. Also, anatomically almost-frightening.

“Oh my god!” June squeaked.

“Don’t worry; I know you’re probably not ready for her,” Chloe said reassuringly, dragging the huge faux-cock down the front of her dress, between her pert little breasts. She shimmied her shoulders and smiled.

June sought clarification. “Her?”

“Well, it’s pink.”

“But it’s a—“ June leaned in, nearly whispering. “Penis. A _giant_ penis.”

“It’s genderfluid,” Chloe grinned, shrugging.

“Is that even a word?”

Chloe ignored June’s question and set the big dildo aside. “Oh, here we go, here we go!” she enthused. She withdrew a small velvet bag shut with a drawstring. “You’ll love this. We should make out a little, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think, Chloe. What exactly are we doing here? What about the terrorists?”

“I told you, I’m the terrorist, and we’re playing Slutty Slumber Party. Come on, when you were a kid in Iowa—“

“Indiana.”

“—didn’t you and your friends practice making out, at slumber parties?”

“Not with huge, fluorescent fake pricks anywhere nearby!” June protested. She’d finished the second drink she’d poured, and set the empty mug on the floor. Chloe was full of surprises, all right. But, to her slight shock, June wasn’t completely opposed to what Chloe seemed to be proposing. She’d come to New York to have new experiences, after all, and she was young and unattached, and Chloe was a beautiful, sexy It Girl. . . Her eyes settled on the computer screen again, where the two men were clearly reaching the end of their encounter.

Chloe was, as ever, conversationally casual as she asked, “Have you ever been with two guys at once, June?”

“What? No.”

“ _So_ good!” Chloe said, as if she were recommending the chef’s special at a new restaurant. “I’m working through the list.” She counted off on her fingers. “Eavesdropping. Watching. Participating. . .but what I really want to do is direct!” She winked. “I’ll get there. How do you get to the gay porn theatre in the alley off Broadway?”

June knew the joke, and offered with a nervous smile, “Practice?”

“Practice!” Chloe screamed. All at once, she slid one hand onto June’s thigh and the other behind her neck, stroking fingers through June’s hair a bit, and pressed soft lips smelling of rosewater-scented, sixty-dollar lipstick and top-shelf gin against June’s. She waited, hovering there, and within a second June had made up her mind: she kissed back.

They came away giggling, harlot-red and blushing-pink lipsticks smudged around the edges of their mouths. “Mmm, let’s have orgasms!” Chloe singsonged, as if she were offering cupcakes, or a shopping date. She toed off her fuck-me pumps, and June did the same with her ballet flats. “Pretty pedi!” Chloe complimented.

“It’s called Lavender Lingerie,” June informed her, and let her toes sweep up the instep of Chloe’s foot. “You have really tiny feet for someone so tall.”

Chloe unpinned her hair and shook it so her raven hair swept her bare shoulders; one strap of her dress had fallen down. “Yeah, it’s why I never got anyone to buy me boobs. I’d fall over. Like Barbie—you know if she were a real woman she couldn’t stand up, and her intestines would be so close to her diaphragm she’d suffocate.”

June nodded. “You’re perfect, anyway. You’re so pale and pretty, and your neck is so thin. I just want to— _urgh_ —“ she made a strangling motion with her hands. “But in a good way!”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, June there’s this thing going around that’s _soooper_ hot right now, called explicit consent? So I’m supposed to check in every step of the way blah blah blah but maybe we can just do it all up front?”

June narrowed her eyes, and tucked one leg up under her, arranging her skirt slightly above her knees. “OK. . .” she said warily.

“Just checking,” Chloe began, and turned the handbag upside-down and shook it. “Is it all right for me to kiss you on the mouth, neck, probably tits, let’s just say body and limbs to cover all the bases. Is it OK for me to touch your pussy with my fingers, lips, tongue, I don’t know maybe toes?, or with any or all of these vibrators, dildos, ticklers, and whatever _this thing_ is? Is it OK if I touch your butt—don’t worry, that situation’s exit-only, but the cheeks are nice and give me something to grab onto—and of course you already know I’m a registered sex offender, but it never hurts to put a reminder out there. You can do all that stuff to me, too—go in my butt if you want to, this lube’s nice, it smells like toothpaste—check, check, and check, approved. Sounds good?”

June was not entirely sure what she was agreeing to, but the parts she could assemble—Chloe wanted to kiss her, touch her breasts, and maybe lick her pussy? And June could do all that to her, as well? “OK. Yes. Good. Nice. Good.”

“Don’t be so nervous,” Chloe smiled, and slipped her hand up under the hem of June’s skirt to pet her thigh with fluttering fingers. “This is going to be fun. Can I get you ready?”

“Um.”

Chloe kissed her again, and this time went after June’s top, pulling it up, breaking the kiss to yank it over June’s head. “Cotton bra, June?”

“It’s comfortable!”

“You know what’s comfortable? Multiple G-spot orgasms.”

“Chloe. . .”

“Don’t get defensive about the bra. We’ll just take it off. . .” Chloe reached around June’s back and unhooked the bra, let it fall, and flung it violently across the room. “Are you sure those are real?! They’re so perfectly round and so high. They’re like peaches.” June’s face flushed hot and pink, and Chloe leaned to nuzzle her nose and mouth between and over and around June’s pink-nippled breasts.

The hot flush June felt rushed downward from her neck and chest into her belly and spread warm into her pelvis as Chloe’s tongue-tip circled her nipple, warm and wet and delicate. June let her eyes close, and her hand went to Chloe’s tiny waist.

In no time, they were both mostly-undressed—zips pulled, skirts shoved up to bare their thighs, shoes kicked off—and kissing playfully, with gusto but no real passion, their mouths tasting faintly of soda pop and strongly of juniper. June screwed up her courage and let her fingers brush over Chloe’s pert little breasts, found herself thrilled to feel Chloe’s nipples beading up hard beneath her touch. Chloe let out a high-pitched mew, then drew back.

“What’s your pleasure?” she demanded, pawing through the assortment of sex toys beside them on the bed. She held up a rather clinical-looking, beige thing not much bigger than one of June’s fingers. “Pocket Rocket,” she said. “Dependable, friendly—a classic.” Next came a blue, silicone faux-cock that curved like a ripe banana. “Ooh, the Silky Stud!” Chloe enthused. “Gets into those hard to reach places.” She loosened the drawstring on the velvet bag she’d had earlier, and pulled out a slim, clear glass cylinder with a curved, almost pointed tip. “This one’s good for the G-spot or up the backside!” she promised with a wide smile. “It’s clean, I swear.”

June’s wide anime-eyes were like saucers by now and her gaze swept over the pile of toys.

“ _Ohmigod_ ,” Chloe suddenly intoned, “Are you even wet? I’m sorry, I am being a really inattentive facilitator.”

“Facili—“ June started.

“Here, let me,” Chloe said, and before June had time to think, Chloe was between her knees on the floor, pushing June’s thighs apart.

“That nail polish is amazing,” June said, realizing half-way through that it was probably not the time to be praising Chloe’s manicure.

“It’s gel. Mojave Sunrise. Shiny, right?” Chloe said, and then she was humming and breathing against June’s pussy-lips, and the warmth made June squirm forward and open her thighs wider despite herself, and then Chloe’s tongue was sliding hot and wet into June’s cunt, softly circling and flicking against her clit. June balled up the coverlet in her fists and her hips rolled. Chloe reached one hand up to caress June’s tit, cupping and stroking, and with the other hand tickled the sensitive inside of June’s thigh until she let out a broken sigh.

Chloe pulled away too soon, swiped the backs of her Mojave Sunrise-tipped fingers across her damp chin. “Now we’re ready!” she announced, and pushed June’s shoulder so suddenly that June did, in fact, fall onto her back on the bed. Chloe grabbed a bulbous-but-not-too-big, silicone vibe and switched it on, resting it just over the hood of June’s clit. “You’re brave for waxing,” Chloe said, as June’s thighs shivered and she let out a long moan, her hand reaching for Chloe’s wrist, guiding a bit and applying pressure. “I did it once, for this Japanese DJ I was dating—he was completely phobic about body hair—but never again! I’m like a ninja with a Venus five-blade, though.”

June was hiccupping little gasps, her back arching off the bed. “Oh god—Chloe!—That’s—that’s— _Aaah_. . .” Chloe swirled the base of the vibe, and the pitch changed with the speed. “That’s!—Amazing!—Don’t move—don’t move—don’t move—“

“I’m not moving, June!” Chloe sighed exasperatedly, and sucked two fingers into her mouth to slick them before she felt for June’s opening and worked them inside. “You are one bossy bottom!”

 With one hand on Chloe’s wrist and the other twisting her own beige-pink nipple, June came shuddering, thighs thrumming, with a long, loud whine.

“ _Nice!_ ” Chloe enthused, in a voice which might have been accompanied by a fist pump, had both her hands not been otherwise engaged. “There’s more!” Chloe clambered up onto the bed beside June, went back into the pile of toys and found a generously-sized but still friendly-looking gent with a few extra bits and bobs designed to hit vital interior nerve-bundles; she put it in June’s hand. “Here, just hold this. . .” she shifted June’s hand beside her thigh “right here. Wait.” She slid a pillow under June’s forearm to raise it, then straddled June’s thigh, lowering herself onto it with a giggling sigh of pleasure.

“You really are good with the Venus!” June commented, nodding appreciatively at the neat triangle of dark curls between Chloe’s thighs. “Ohmigod! Do they call it Venus because of the mount-of-venus? They wouldn’t!”

“June, someone made a commercial for bikini razors with topiary bushes shaped like triangles and landing strips. That’s _totally_ why they call it that.” Chloe maneuvered the vibe she’d used on June, readying it to slip inside her. “Help yourself, kitty-cat. I have a secret weapon, but you just grab whatever suits your fancy.”

June turned her head to look, reached for the little Pocket Rocket Chloe had showed her earlier, twisted it so it buzzed to life. She moved it experimentally over her pussy-lips and pressed against the hood of her clit, making herself suck in a breath. “Oh, yeah, that’ll do!” she sighed, with a crooked grin.

“Small but mighty,” Chloe agreed, and wriggled the bulbous blue dildo into June’s slick opening. She shifted it around a bit, until Chloe let out a high-pitched yelp of a laugh. “Found it!” Chloe sing-songed. “Anyone who says the G-spot is fake is a damn dirty liar.” Instead of the toys, Chloe reached into her night table and pulled out a battery-operated toothbrush. “My secret to success!” she announced, and clicked it on. “Oral-B takes care of me in more ways than one.”

“There’s a lot going on here,” June gasped out, eyebrows momentarily knitting with concern-bordering-on-alarm, until Chloe switched on the vibe inside her. June’s eyes rolled back and closed, and she bit her lip.

“Don’t worry, June, I’ve never lost one yet!” Chloe announced, and began to simultaneously ride the dildo June was holding for her, work her clit with the back of the buzzing toothbrush (not the bristles! That’s not an experiment that gets repeated to verify results!), and rock the dildo in and out of June’s pussy to work her G-spot. June maneuvered the mini-vibe until she felt the deep thrum all the way though her pelvis.

Chloe was letting out high, ecstatic moans in time with fucking the huge fake cock. All at once, June’s eyes went wide and her mouth opened wide, as if she were surprised—pleasantly so, but really, utterly shocked, as if Bruno Mars had come to serenade her. On her birthday. And brought a pint of ice cream. And a pink Corvette like her Barbie doll used to drive, but a real one, for June. Such was the shock and delight of the hardest, longest, deepest orgasm she had ever experienced.

June was certain she’d melted into the mattress; all her bones had liquefied. She heard an angelic choir singing, with a mezzo-soprano soloist. . .no, wait—that was Chloe.

Chloe came screaming in a register dogs and dolphins would have found distracting, and fell forward onto the mattress, face flat in the blankets, one arm draped over June’s middle.

“ _Wnts bedenda datesy hand_?” Chloe said into the quilt.

“Sorry, I missed that. Is there more of that gin?” June raised herself up on her elbows and looked around, blowing her hair away from her face in a quick puff.

Chloe turned her head. “Wasn’t this better than those dates we had?” she repeated.

“Definitely, yes,” June said firmly.

“I’m glad you agree. I set up my guy’s email to send a new threat every other Friday for the next three months.”

**Author's Note:**

> fuckyeahfightlock and poppyalexander-fic on tumblr!


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